Fic; Sweet Like Chocolate [Mycroft]
I really shouldn't be wasting time on Sherlock fic, and spending more time on doing Uni work but hey...
I can't believe the first ever Sherlock fan fic I upload is all about Mycroft.
But, I blame the kink meme. Because that's where this one came from!
Title; Sweet Like Chocolate
Rating; PG-13 or maybe R...?to be safe
Word Count; 2204
Characters/Pairings; Mycroft, Sherlock, John and mini cameos of Mummy and Daddy Holmes.
Summary; Inspired by this prompt in the kink meme, Mycroft is chocolate-sexual, meaning he can only achieve sexual arousal by eating chocolate. Another implication of this is that, whenever anyone feeds him chocolate, he gets aroused, whether or not it was the other person's intention.
Warnings; May cause craving for chocolate. References to British-y chocolate brands.
Disclaimer; Moffat, Gatiss and Sir ACD would all disown me as a fan.
Indulging in things that were forbidden were always more enjoyable to indulge. In this instance, for the Holmes household, it was chocolate. Now Mr Holmes wasn't what you'd call, a religious man, be he still abided by some key rules and those rules were pounded into his children as they were pounded into him.
Mycroft was five years old when he was offered his first piece of chocolate. A plump lady, with kind eyes had passed him one out of the box and smiled at him as she did. Before he could even touch the dark velvety texture of the small round object, his father had swiped it out of her hand, hiding it from the boy's sight.
“Now, now Mycroft. We don't have chocolate do we? It's the food of sin!” his father wasn't a scary man, but he was stern and when he put his foot down, Mycroft wasn't foolish enough to argue.
“Oh now, Master Holmes, no need to scare the boy. One piece won't hurt!” the lady said, passing Mycroft a quick wink.
The five year old smirked and watched his Dad hopefully. This thing... this, chocolate, was intriguing him already. What could be so sinful of a sweet?
“That's how it all starts Mrs Ellis. Now please, do not offer my son any more of this filth!”
Mrs Ellis merely rolled her eyes, and that was the last Mycroft ever saw of that chocolate box.
He was eleven when he caught his four year old brother in the main hall, scoffing down a Cadbury bar at the high end of the table.
“Sherlock!” he'd shouted running forward and snapping the chocolate bar from his younger brother. The four year old screamed in horror jumping off the chair attempting to retrieve the half eaten chocolate but Mycroft held it above his head in authority.
“No, Sherlock! You know what father will do if he finds you with this.”
“I don't CARE! Give it back!” The four year old stomped his foot angrily and continued to groan in a that high pitched tone his older brother had come to despise.
“Hush your whining! Now put it from your mind.” Mycroft pushed his little brother off him, wrapping the chocolate up and shoving it in his pocket for disposal.
Sherlock pouted miserably and sat himself down on the floor, crossing his arms over his chest. “I hate you.” he grumbled.
Mycroft sighed and turned around to walk out of the hall. “Yes, of course you do.”
Mycroft didn't like boarding school. It's rules were dire and the people were dull. The work was stimulating enough but he never had much time for the alternative extra-curricular so he spent most of the time in his room, surveying the other students, studying their comings and goings. It managed to help him along in testing his skills when it came to blackmailing the older students for a cigarette. Of course he didn't smoke himself, but handing them out always earned him some respect without having to be physical about it like the other boys did.
When he was thirteen, one cold December evening, some boys had invited him to their dormitory. They'd managed to get hold of some video, they'd said. One of the boys had stolen it from their older brother. Mycroft wasn't too keen, but he went along anyway.
He was scowling through the whole thing, it was all girls, and pillow fighting, horrendous giggling and... naked breasts. The others seemed to love it, Mycroft just found it boring. Halfway through, one of the boys turned to him and passed him a shiny blue box, with it's lid half open.
“Here, take one, I was supposed to be saving them 'till Christmas, but, couldn't resist. Pass them round.”
Mycroft stared at the box and took it in his hands slowly bringing it to his lap. Opening the lid a little wider, his eyes sparkled in delight at what was inside. Rows and rows of endless dark treats, each in their place a few missing here and there. His father's voice echoed in his head, as his fingers edged towards one that looked particularly delightful. It was round, almost identical to that first one Mrs Ellis had offered him all those many years ago. He picked it out of the box and brought it to his lips, smelling the cocoa as it drifted up his nose. He was sure none of the others were looking when he closed his eyes and bit down on the sweet.
As soon as his tongue tasted the delicate velvety smoothness that was the chocolate, his insides exploded and his head swirled in euphoria as that forbidden taste was enveloped in his mouth. Sighing silently he felt his palms go sweaty under the sudden feeling of heat prickling his skin and the little hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.
He snapped out of his trance when the boy next to him grabbed the box from his lap.
“Don't get greedy, Holmes!”
Mycroft shifted on the floor and quickly became aware of his surroundings, bringing himself back to the room. “Sorry...” he whispered. Thankfully no one saw him blushing.
He was fifteen when his father died. He was also fifteen when he had his first sexual encounter. It was a horrible day, the rain had been pounding against the window of his dormitory and he'd been sitting on the floor next to the blonde boy who was telling him stories of watching girls getting undressed in his neighbours conservatory.
“Do you like Toblerone?” he had suddenly asked snapping Mycroft out from his daydream.
“Sorry?”
“Do you like Toblerone?” he repeated. “I bought a whole bar the other day, but I don't really like it, you can have it if you want.”
Mycroft watched in silence as his friend retrieved the chocolate and passed him a piece. Without even thinking Mycroft leant his head forward and took the chocolate from the boys fingers with his mouth.
There was an odd moment where Mycroft sat and chewed, eyes closed and breathing heavy through the nose, before opening his eyes again seeing the boy knelt in front of him, eyes wide, and mouth half open.
“You look beautiful when you eat chocolate.”
The rest of the chocolate bar was fed to him, ending in Mycroft's first orgasm that wasn't induced by himself.
A seventeen year old Sherlock was smirking at Mycroft across the family dinner table. He did his best to avoid his brothers gaze as he tried to explain what his “minor position in the MI5” entailed to their mother.
Prior to their current situation merely two hours before, Sherlock had walked in on Mycroft with a milk tray splayed across his chest, as he lay on his bed, consuming chocolate after chocolate.
“Well, this explains a LOT of things.” Sherlock had said smugly.
Mycroft looked his brother in the eye doing his very best to look expressionless. “Get. Out.”
Sherlock rarely laughed, but this was one of those...rare occasions. “Oh my dear Mycroft. What have you become?”
Mycroft decided he was past the point of trying not to seethe. “I mean it Sherlock. Get out!”
Sherlock looked his brother up and down and raised an eyebrow. “What would father say?”
Mycroft grabbed the box of chocolates from his chest and chucked the whole thing at his younger brother.
He rolled off the bed and went forward stopping directly in front of him. There wasn't much difference in height, Sherlock was a fast grower, but that didn't stop the look of superiority in the older Holmes' eyes.
He could see the glimmer of fear, but Sherlock sported his best “you're-so-very-dull” look and rolled his eyes, leaving the room promptly.
“Is everything all right, dear? You haven't touched your food.” Their mother said nodding at Mycroft's plate. He paused in the middle of shoving a roast potato around the plate with his fork to look down.
Sherlock sniggered from opposite him. “How is the diet, Mycroft?”
Mycroft's head shot up giving Sherlock a look he'd give a terrorist who'd committed treason. “Fine.” he replied.
They didn't talk to each other for the rest of the evening.
Mycroft liked his secretary. She was punctual, she was thorough, she was professional, and she could fire a gun, which was always a bonus in his line of work. He'd moved from MI5 to the heart of Government which was somewhat a leap, but he liked being behind the curtain, observing with a pair of binoculars. It's how it had always been.
It was late evening when his secretary had come in and told him it was her Birthday. He felt a stab of guilt, because out of all the birthday's in the world, he should have known when hers was. She brushed it aside, laughed and told him she could make it up to her by giving her a “big chocolatey cake!”
Mycroft agreed. She was joking. He wasn't.
The chocolate cake was good. It was even better when she was licking it off his fingers. He'd heard the saying, but never believed it up until now. They were right, who ever “they” were. Office romances never ended nicely.
He let her go at the end of the month.
Mycroft took a shining to Dr John Watson after he'd saved his little brothers life. It didn't stop him from kidnapping the doctor every now and then, but John always refused the money and always welcomed the tea.
The third time Mycroft kidnapped John, the Doctor sat down at the small table provided and shoved a hand in his jacket pocket before producing a small packet of chocolate bourbons.
Mycroft frowned down at the biscuits before looking back up at John with an inquisitive eye. John smiled.
“I just thought, seeing as you always bring the tea, I'll bring the biscuits.”
Mycroft looked back at the chocolate biscuits blinking slowly. “Thank you, John.” he said easily. He didn't take his eyes off them as John slipped the wrapper from them slowly passing the packet over to the older man.
Mycroft took a biscuit, nodding at John with a smile as he did, watching the doctor as he took one for himself and snapped it in half. He watched intently, holding the biscuit in front of his lips but forcing himself not to take a bite. Not just yet...
John took the top layer of the biscuit off bringing the filling up to his mouth sliding his tongue across it. Mycroft's eyes widened only slightly, trying to force back any signs that he was finding this impossibly arousing. He knew John was oblivious, that this was just his habit of eating a biscuit, and it wasn't until John looked up to meet with Mycroft's gaze that he realised something wasn't quite right.
Mycroft stayed very still, the biscuit was still hovering just centimetres from his lips, his mouth hanging open, staring John square in the eye. He must have figured out what was going on quickly, he knew John wasn't stupid, and he had to hold back from making a noise when John released his tongue and licked the icing in the biscuit again, this time not taking his eyes off Mycroft.
He closed his mouth just to swallow the lump down feeling his free hand moisten as it lay flat against the surface of the table, his other trembling as it held the bourbon in front of his face. Mycroft watched in almost fascination as John enveloped the biscuit with his lips before biting the end of it off.
Unable to resist any longer, Mycroft took the first bite of the biscuit, feeling it go soft instantly in his mouth as he tried hard to chew, watch and keep in a moan at the same time. It was all the rushing of blood and the euphoria and the knowing that he was indulging in all those brilliant forbidden things that caused Mycroft's spontaneous ejaculation inside his trousers. He swallowed the biscuit and leant back feeling the dampness surrounding his groin cooling as he watched John finish his biscuit with a look he could only describe as accomplishment on the doctors face.
They parted like dignified men, when John stood up he shook Mycroft's hand, smiled and thanked him for the tea. There wasn't much else to say.
“Sir? Shall we go?”
Mycroft turned to look at his assistant, smiled and nodded before standing up and picking up his umbrella from where it was hanging off the back of his chair. He was just about to follow her into the car that was waiting for them before he quickly stopped turned around and eyed the packet of biscuits that were still on the table. Five seconds passed before he leant over and picked them up, smirking as he did.
Yes, indulgence in forbidden things were definitely more enjoyable to indulge. But he was Mycroft Holmes. No one, and nothing, was off limits.
I can't believe the first ever Sherlock fan fic I upload is all about Mycroft.
But, I blame the kink meme. Because that's where this one came from!
Title; Sweet Like Chocolate
Rating; PG-13 or maybe R...?to be safe
Word Count; 2204
Characters/Pairings; Mycroft, Sherlock, John and mini cameos of Mummy and Daddy Holmes.
Summary; Inspired by this prompt in the kink meme, Mycroft is chocolate-sexual, meaning he can only achieve sexual arousal by eating chocolate. Another implication of this is that, whenever anyone feeds him chocolate, he gets aroused, whether or not it was the other person's intention.
Warnings; May cause craving for chocolate. References to British-y chocolate brands.
Disclaimer; Moffat, Gatiss and Sir ACD would all disown me as a fan.
Indulging in things that were forbidden were always more enjoyable to indulge. In this instance, for the Holmes household, it was chocolate. Now Mr Holmes wasn't what you'd call, a religious man, be he still abided by some key rules and those rules were pounded into his children as they were pounded into him.
Mycroft was five years old when he was offered his first piece of chocolate. A plump lady, with kind eyes had passed him one out of the box and smiled at him as she did. Before he could even touch the dark velvety texture of the small round object, his father had swiped it out of her hand, hiding it from the boy's sight.
“Now, now Mycroft. We don't have chocolate do we? It's the food of sin!” his father wasn't a scary man, but he was stern and when he put his foot down, Mycroft wasn't foolish enough to argue.
“Oh now, Master Holmes, no need to scare the boy. One piece won't hurt!” the lady said, passing Mycroft a quick wink.
The five year old smirked and watched his Dad hopefully. This thing... this, chocolate, was intriguing him already. What could be so sinful of a sweet?
“That's how it all starts Mrs Ellis. Now please, do not offer my son any more of this filth!”
Mrs Ellis merely rolled her eyes, and that was the last Mycroft ever saw of that chocolate box.
He was eleven when he caught his four year old brother in the main hall, scoffing down a Cadbury bar at the high end of the table.
“Sherlock!” he'd shouted running forward and snapping the chocolate bar from his younger brother. The four year old screamed in horror jumping off the chair attempting to retrieve the half eaten chocolate but Mycroft held it above his head in authority.
“No, Sherlock! You know what father will do if he finds you with this.”
“I don't CARE! Give it back!” The four year old stomped his foot angrily and continued to groan in a that high pitched tone his older brother had come to despise.
“Hush your whining! Now put it from your mind.” Mycroft pushed his little brother off him, wrapping the chocolate up and shoving it in his pocket for disposal.
Sherlock pouted miserably and sat himself down on the floor, crossing his arms over his chest. “I hate you.” he grumbled.
Mycroft sighed and turned around to walk out of the hall. “Yes, of course you do.”
Mycroft didn't like boarding school. It's rules were dire and the people were dull. The work was stimulating enough but he never had much time for the alternative extra-curricular so he spent most of the time in his room, surveying the other students, studying their comings and goings. It managed to help him along in testing his skills when it came to blackmailing the older students for a cigarette. Of course he didn't smoke himself, but handing them out always earned him some respect without having to be physical about it like the other boys did.
When he was thirteen, one cold December evening, some boys had invited him to their dormitory. They'd managed to get hold of some video, they'd said. One of the boys had stolen it from their older brother. Mycroft wasn't too keen, but he went along anyway.
He was scowling through the whole thing, it was all girls, and pillow fighting, horrendous giggling and... naked breasts. The others seemed to love it, Mycroft just found it boring. Halfway through, one of the boys turned to him and passed him a shiny blue box, with it's lid half open.
“Here, take one, I was supposed to be saving them 'till Christmas, but, couldn't resist. Pass them round.”
Mycroft stared at the box and took it in his hands slowly bringing it to his lap. Opening the lid a little wider, his eyes sparkled in delight at what was inside. Rows and rows of endless dark treats, each in their place a few missing here and there. His father's voice echoed in his head, as his fingers edged towards one that looked particularly delightful. It was round, almost identical to that first one Mrs Ellis had offered him all those many years ago. He picked it out of the box and brought it to his lips, smelling the cocoa as it drifted up his nose. He was sure none of the others were looking when he closed his eyes and bit down on the sweet.
As soon as his tongue tasted the delicate velvety smoothness that was the chocolate, his insides exploded and his head swirled in euphoria as that forbidden taste was enveloped in his mouth. Sighing silently he felt his palms go sweaty under the sudden feeling of heat prickling his skin and the little hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.
He snapped out of his trance when the boy next to him grabbed the box from his lap.
“Don't get greedy, Holmes!”
Mycroft shifted on the floor and quickly became aware of his surroundings, bringing himself back to the room. “Sorry...” he whispered. Thankfully no one saw him blushing.
He was fifteen when his father died. He was also fifteen when he had his first sexual encounter. It was a horrible day, the rain had been pounding against the window of his dormitory and he'd been sitting on the floor next to the blonde boy who was telling him stories of watching girls getting undressed in his neighbours conservatory.
“Do you like Toblerone?” he had suddenly asked snapping Mycroft out from his daydream.
“Sorry?”
“Do you like Toblerone?” he repeated. “I bought a whole bar the other day, but I don't really like it, you can have it if you want.”
Mycroft watched in silence as his friend retrieved the chocolate and passed him a piece. Without even thinking Mycroft leant his head forward and took the chocolate from the boys fingers with his mouth.
There was an odd moment where Mycroft sat and chewed, eyes closed and breathing heavy through the nose, before opening his eyes again seeing the boy knelt in front of him, eyes wide, and mouth half open.
“You look beautiful when you eat chocolate.”
The rest of the chocolate bar was fed to him, ending in Mycroft's first orgasm that wasn't induced by himself.
A seventeen year old Sherlock was smirking at Mycroft across the family dinner table. He did his best to avoid his brothers gaze as he tried to explain what his “minor position in the MI5” entailed to their mother.
Prior to their current situation merely two hours before, Sherlock had walked in on Mycroft with a milk tray splayed across his chest, as he lay on his bed, consuming chocolate after chocolate.
“Well, this explains a LOT of things.” Sherlock had said smugly.
Mycroft looked his brother in the eye doing his very best to look expressionless. “Get. Out.”
Sherlock rarely laughed, but this was one of those...rare occasions. “Oh my dear Mycroft. What have you become?”
Mycroft decided he was past the point of trying not to seethe. “I mean it Sherlock. Get out!”
Sherlock looked his brother up and down and raised an eyebrow. “What would father say?”
Mycroft grabbed the box of chocolates from his chest and chucked the whole thing at his younger brother.
He rolled off the bed and went forward stopping directly in front of him. There wasn't much difference in height, Sherlock was a fast grower, but that didn't stop the look of superiority in the older Holmes' eyes.
He could see the glimmer of fear, but Sherlock sported his best “you're-so-very-dull” look and rolled his eyes, leaving the room promptly.
“Is everything all right, dear? You haven't touched your food.” Their mother said nodding at Mycroft's plate. He paused in the middle of shoving a roast potato around the plate with his fork to look down.
Sherlock sniggered from opposite him. “How is the diet, Mycroft?”
Mycroft's head shot up giving Sherlock a look he'd give a terrorist who'd committed treason. “Fine.” he replied.
They didn't talk to each other for the rest of the evening.
Mycroft liked his secretary. She was punctual, she was thorough, she was professional, and she could fire a gun, which was always a bonus in his line of work. He'd moved from MI5 to the heart of Government which was somewhat a leap, but he liked being behind the curtain, observing with a pair of binoculars. It's how it had always been.
It was late evening when his secretary had come in and told him it was her Birthday. He felt a stab of guilt, because out of all the birthday's in the world, he should have known when hers was. She brushed it aside, laughed and told him she could make it up to her by giving her a “big chocolatey cake!”
Mycroft agreed. She was joking. He wasn't.
The chocolate cake was good. It was even better when she was licking it off his fingers. He'd heard the saying, but never believed it up until now. They were right, who ever “they” were. Office romances never ended nicely.
He let her go at the end of the month.
Mycroft took a shining to Dr John Watson after he'd saved his little brothers life. It didn't stop him from kidnapping the doctor every now and then, but John always refused the money and always welcomed the tea.
The third time Mycroft kidnapped John, the Doctor sat down at the small table provided and shoved a hand in his jacket pocket before producing a small packet of chocolate bourbons.
Mycroft frowned down at the biscuits before looking back up at John with an inquisitive eye. John smiled.
“I just thought, seeing as you always bring the tea, I'll bring the biscuits.”
Mycroft looked back at the chocolate biscuits blinking slowly. “Thank you, John.” he said easily. He didn't take his eyes off them as John slipped the wrapper from them slowly passing the packet over to the older man.
Mycroft took a biscuit, nodding at John with a smile as he did, watching the doctor as he took one for himself and snapped it in half. He watched intently, holding the biscuit in front of his lips but forcing himself not to take a bite. Not just yet...
John took the top layer of the biscuit off bringing the filling up to his mouth sliding his tongue across it. Mycroft's eyes widened only slightly, trying to force back any signs that he was finding this impossibly arousing. He knew John was oblivious, that this was just his habit of eating a biscuit, and it wasn't until John looked up to meet with Mycroft's gaze that he realised something wasn't quite right.
Mycroft stayed very still, the biscuit was still hovering just centimetres from his lips, his mouth hanging open, staring John square in the eye. He must have figured out what was going on quickly, he knew John wasn't stupid, and he had to hold back from making a noise when John released his tongue and licked the icing in the biscuit again, this time not taking his eyes off Mycroft.
He closed his mouth just to swallow the lump down feeling his free hand moisten as it lay flat against the surface of the table, his other trembling as it held the bourbon in front of his face. Mycroft watched in almost fascination as John enveloped the biscuit with his lips before biting the end of it off.
Unable to resist any longer, Mycroft took the first bite of the biscuit, feeling it go soft instantly in his mouth as he tried hard to chew, watch and keep in a moan at the same time. It was all the rushing of blood and the euphoria and the knowing that he was indulging in all those brilliant forbidden things that caused Mycroft's spontaneous ejaculation inside his trousers. He swallowed the biscuit and leant back feeling the dampness surrounding his groin cooling as he watched John finish his biscuit with a look he could only describe as accomplishment on the doctors face.
They parted like dignified men, when John stood up he shook Mycroft's hand, smiled and thanked him for the tea. There wasn't much else to say.
“Sir? Shall we go?”
Mycroft turned to look at his assistant, smiled and nodded before standing up and picking up his umbrella from where it was hanging off the back of his chair. He was just about to follow her into the car that was waiting for them before he quickly stopped turned around and eyed the packet of biscuits that were still on the table. Five seconds passed before he leant over and picked them up, smirking as he did.
Yes, indulgence in forbidden things were definitely more enjoyable to indulge. But he was Mycroft Holmes. No one, and nothing, was off limits.